Midgar Isn't Really All That Bad
by lazaefair
Summary: Interlude with Reeve and Scarlet. Fluff, kinda? Also swearing.


1.

For the four hundred fifty-third time, another intern creeps into Reeve Tuesti's office and interrupts him from the vast piles of paperwork he's trying to complete.

Sometimes it really, really sucks to be in charge of _anything_ ShinRa does. Well, more like it _always_ sucks. How the fuck did ShinRa take over the world with this level of incompetence?

"Sir...?"

Reeve Tuesti is not a happy engineer, especially when he's being bombarded by idiots. Especially idiots trying to construct a new train (emphasis on trying). And really, definitely especially when the design of the tunnel and train must be perfect lest it compromise the integrity of the plate.

"Sir, we're having a problem."

Reeve Tuesti, unlike the cat-robot he's working on for a side project (a nerdy treat for himself), does not have a permanently happy smile pasted onto his face, so the very peeved scowl he turns to the skittish messenger isn't doing any wonders for his reputation as the least unpleasant executive at ShinRa. Briefly, he wonders if Hojo has any super warped headache remedies down in his little labs.

"Sir!"

Hell, it's entirely possible he could plunge his head into a vat of Mako and be content to keep it there. It's supposed to be the Lifestream, isn't it?

"What _now_?"

2.  
The problem turns out to be bad enough that he has to make a personal visit to the current worksite, which just _adds_ the hearts and stars and rainbows to his day.

He's in the midst of a full-blown argument with the head engineer when one of the support beams collapses without so much as a by-your-leave, which basically sets construction back by time and dollar amounts that he doesn't want to think about. Personal inspection reveals that the supplier they've been employing has been providing shoddy materials for the construction. So much for building up the public image by hiring local companies.

It would probably be overkill to send in the Turks and put a little healthy fear of physical torture in the supplier. Reeve has to be content with putting in a clipped, furious phone call to the man, and settling for the mere threat of bankruptcy and personal ruin, not to mention forcing him to pay for the funerals of the dead workers. Fucker.

Reeve Tuesti hasn't clocked out early since his student days in the Meteorbucks on the campus of Midgar University. He's beginning to regret this point of pride.

3.  
Of course, he works into overtime.

He _wishes_ he had Hojo's job. Messing around with DNA and various genetic blasphemies sounds much easier after many hours of solid paperwork and all the major and minor engineering disasters that can be humanly crammed into a single day.

It's Scarlet who wakes him up after falling asleep facedown on form A-1128(hazardous waste cleanup). The ringtone on his PHS is particularly loud and harsh as it squeals in his ear, intensifying the sudden headache that stampedes through his head upon waking.

"Fuck off."

"I have you on the security cameras and I thought you might want to wake up before the secretaries find you." Pause. "Unless you have some kind of kink with drooling on your desk or something. Actually, that's a lot of credibility right there."

The computer monitor pitilessly informs him that it's 5:16 in the morning. Crap, this is the fourth time he's slept through the night in the office, and the first time he's confirmed that hearing Scarlet's whorish voice at 5 in the morning is _definitely_ not his preferred method of waking.

"Nngh...fuck off."

Scarlet's screeching laugh fails to do wonders for his mood.

"All right, engineering boy. But you owe me."

"Fuck off."

"You, me, dinner. Sycamore's. 6:30 reservation."

"Fuck off, Scarlet, _please_?"

Another harpy laugh that sounds suspiciously like a giggle. "Go and look out your nice executive windows, engineering boy." Click.

"_Nngh_." Reeve flings the PHS across the room and experiences only a faint twinge as abused instrument clatters against a filing cabinet and comes to rest on some crumpled blueprints. He'll fix it later.

His spine pops luxuriously as he takes his time getting up (after it informs him again that it would rather spend the night in a nice bed than slouched over a metal desk, thank you) and his eyes are better adjusted to the dim light filtering through the blinds by the time he's on his feet.

It's only after he raises the blinds, though, that he understands Scarlet's mystifying last remark.

The sun's just coming up and it's--oh. The light flashes off the silvery tall structures populating the top plate and dazzles the eyes enough that the stains of concrete and big city in general aren't visible.

It brings a slightly awestruck smile to his face even though he knows logically, it's the heavily polluted air that creates the gorgeous colors.

Wow.

4.  
Fifteen minutes later, a few floors above, a PHS rings.

"Scarlet? Explain again why were you watching me on the security cameras?"


End file.
